Nothing Magic, Just Chemistry
by BackRowKings
Summary: A series of Next Gen One Shots, primarily about all of the Next Gen kids at Hogwarts.  Primarily fluffy nonsense/plotless character development; not in chronological order.
1. Full Moons

**A/N: I don't really understand how to format stories etc on here, so sorry about that!**

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><p>Teddy went out in the yard, trying to find some peace and quiet but finding Victoire instead. "What are you doing out, at this hour?" he asked, trying to sound relaxed.<p>

"Couldn't sleep," she said simply, and Teddy could sense that no further response would be forthcoming.

"Yeah," Teddy replied, adding, "neither could I.. Tend to get pretty restless on the night of a full moon, actually."

She smiled, because so did she, but she didn't say anything. Sometimes when Victoire was lost in thought, she would squint her eyes, pout her lips and tilt her head downwards - like she was doing now. It made her look sweet and vulnerable, Teddy thought, and thought it was different from her usual demeanor, she appeared somehow more like herself. But then... his thoughts were getting all jumbled again.

Being restless on full moons was something of a tradition in her household, Victoire thought. Her calm, sweet father would grow a temper the size of a giant when the full moon came out, and somehow the family had had to adapt around him. Her family co-existed well till that time of the month, when they slammed doors and didn't talk. At least, in retrospect, it was nice to have a father who could relate to PMS. She looked to Teddy to see if he got like her father - pale, ragged, anxious - and found that, though his eyes were weary and his breathing tired, his main focus seemed to be herself. There was a wolf cry in the distance.

Teddy took a deep breath and clenched the black railing of the gate, his knuckles going white. Teddy's sudden unsteadiness frightened Victoire. "Teddy, are you alright?" She asked, her voice unsteady and anxious. It seemed almost like an epileptic fit or something. He mumbled something in the affirmative, but his physical condition disagreed.

Teddy's breathing was haggard, and he moved to sit down. His heart was beating too fast, and everything was too loud - the crickets in the grass, the cicadas in bushes, the owl in the tree, and the wolf - it was like he could hear it breathing a mile away. Yet over all of this, Victoire's voice became loudest, laced with concern and closeness. His bones ached so much and his senses were so overpowering that he nearly cowered when she moved to help him sit, but he didn't flinch- because even in this sensory chaos he knew this was the first time she'd looked twice at him.

Victoire felt helpless. She could tell these were side effects of his werewolf blood, partly from common sense and partly because her father had a somewhat similar reaction... but her father's sickness wasn't exactly the same, and her maman had always been there when her father was at his worst. And so here was Teddy, clearly suffering, and she couldn't do anything. It took her a few moments before she thought to yell for help, and even then - even then, she realized, the first person she thought to call was Teddy. Teddy was always cool in the midst of a crisis - but in this moment, Teddy was the crisis.

Instead, she began to call for her Aunt Hermione, or rather, screamed for her. Her Aunt and Uncle came barreling down the stairs, searching for the source of the yells. When they found the two teens, each adult immediately set to work - they clearly knew the drill. Here they were, two thirds of The Golden Trio, THE veterans of the war. Of course they knew what to do! Why hadn't she yelled for them right away? Why did it take her minutes to call for help? As the two adults soothed Teddy with aromatic healing herbs and spells, Victoire was left to stand a few feet away, cursing herself and whimpering. She knew it would all work out, yet all she could think about was _if it had been the other way round, Teddy would have known what to do right away. _Teddy would have saved her immediately or called for help. Teddy would have saved her.

And she realized, up until now, she'd hardly known herself or Teddy at all.

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><p>Fred and Victoire came out of their first year at Hogwarts as very good friends. In fact, they spent entirely too much time together, as far as Teddy was concerned. Every time he visited the Weasleys, anytime one of them was around, the other was too. Teddy thought that Victoire would think he was cool for being older and more knowledgeable as her senior at Hogwarts. Instead, she'd taken to ignoring him whenever possible.<p>

He and his grandmother visited the Burrow one afternoon in July, on the day of a full moon no less, and Teddy was feeling very testy. Uncle Bill had told the kids to go play quidditch in the garden, and Victoire, Dominique, Fred and Teddy had rushed outside, only to remember there were only 3 brooms that day.

"These are our brooms," Dominique said. "You'll have to sit out."

Teddy knew she'd said this first, because otherwise as the youngest she could have first to get the boot. "They aren't yours, and we can switch. I haven't gotten to play quidditch with any of you all summer!"

"Just admit it - you mean you haven't gotten to play quidditch with _Victoire _all summer." Fred said, quite amused.

"N-No! That's not what I mean!" Teddy said (protesting too much). "I'm sick of getting last choice. I'm the oldest."

"Oh, come on!" Fred egged. "You fancy her, you know it!"

Teddy tried to protest, but he was blushing from ear to ear.  
>"Look here!" Victoire shouted, breaking up the boys. "Teddy just get over yourself! You're boring and lame and I'm not interested in guys who follow me around just because they can't get over the Veela, SO SOD OFF!"<p>

With that she threw her broom down and marched back to the house.

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><p>She was kicking on the grass on pitch, walking in circles, looking like she was going crazy. I wanted to go down to talk to her, but she'd gotten short with me for doing it before. She'd tell me I'd scared her, that I was being nosy... She'd never admit that she just wanted to be alone.<p>

Maybe she didn't know. You come from a family as big and overwhelming as hers and maybe you don't even know that you're allowed to want to be alone. I mean, she and Fred were my closest friends, so even I couldn't escape the Weasleys.

I sat in the stands instead of approaching her, and observed. It was late and I was worried she'd lose track of time and get caught out after curfew. Not that I'd tell her to go in if she did... But I'd walk her back to the castle. On full moons she went absent minded as all get out, and restless too. She was always begging Fred to schedule practices for full moons, but then she'd be cross all through practice.

The only person she didn't mind talking to on full moons was Victoire, but her sister was on prefect rounds tonight, so Dom was left kicking turf, and I was left watching Dom.

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><p>Louis was so disquieted that he wandered all the way up to the owlery, and then spent a good ten minutes just kicking the wall and yelling out curses, making all the owls rather disgruntled. Once his foot began to hurt he quieted down, but he still <em>wanted <em>to kick things.

The night was quiet and cool, and he couldn't stand it. He stared up at the stars, and the full moon, and he couldn't stand them either. Why couldn't his sixth year just be over? Why was Hugo always studying? Why was Scorpius being so mopey? Why was today making him so, so angry? So angry he wanted to tear the world to pieces. Why did he have to spend all of Potions watching some gryffindor chat her up? Why...

was he in love with her?


	2. Sortings

**A/N: Just by the way, I edited the last chapter and added some more bits in. Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>"Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat screamed, barely touching his head. The cheers from the Gryffindor table were deafening, though the response from the rest of the Great Hall seemed somewhat less enthusiastic. They all wanted a Golden Son in their house, James thought to himself, heaving a somewhat self-pitying sigh before enthusiastically running toward the Gryffindor table.<p>

It wasn't that he didn't want to be in Gryffindor. Gryffindor was obviously the best house - his uncle George had told him so, as had Teddy and Roxy and Dom. But hadn't they also all told the story of how his dad had argued with the Sorting Hat? James couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Was he already falling short of his namesakes?

However, when he got to the table, his worries fell away. "Hullo there, you little rascal," Fred said, ruffling James's hair. While at any other time James would have been indignant (he wasn't a kid anymore!), he decided to let it slide… The affection was comforting. And, as he smiled down the table to Teddy and Roxy and Dom, and across the table at his new friend Daria, James realized that the sorting hat was right; Gryffindor was where James Potter belonged.

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><p>"Fred Weasley," called Professor Truman, prompting whispers and stares. The first Weasley at Hogwarts in over a decade. The son of George Weasley at that.<p>

Victoire swallowed her own nervousness as she watched her cousin skip up towards the stool. She remembered Uncle George's remarks to Fred at the station - "Ready to be a Gryffindor, Fred? You and Teddy here can carry on in good Marauder fashion! Why I remember once when-"at which point Angelina had cut him off.

_"What if he isn't a Gryffindor?" Victoire had asked earnestly. George's smile faltered._

_"Well... I'm sure we don't have to worry about that! Weasley's are always Gryffindors!" He said, with gaining confidence._

_Fred laughed. "Yeah, and Uncle Ron says you'll disown me if I'm not." This didn't seem to worry Fred, but Victoire felt a wave of anxiety wash over her, even as Angelina rolled her eyes and shushed both her husband and son._

_"Don't worry, mon petit," Fleur said, leaning down and kissing Victoire's forehead, always aware of her daughter's sensitivity. "C'est pas vrai."_

_"Mais, si, c'est vrai, maman! Even I heard Oncle Harry and Oncle Ron talking about it!" Dominique said loudly. Victoire shot her a look._

_"Zat may very well be troo, but what is said and la realite is not dee same," Fleur scolded. "Do not scare your seester. Victoire, you will be at 'ogwarts, and dat is what makes you Weasley. Do not worry what is your house, d'accord?"_

Victoire had nodded obediently then, but it was not so easy now to trust her mother's words. "Gryffindor!" the hat yelled, and the room, which had been quiet in anticipation, burst into applause. They had expected this response, and so even the other houses seemed pleased, cheering with almost as much enthusiasm as the Gryffindors themselves. Fred, who always seemed to have a huge smile plastered on his face, seemed to smile even bigger now as he sat next to Teddy.

_"The Slytherins live in the dungeons - they always want to win," Teddy had told Victoire when she asked him to explain each house. Her family had been talking to her about Hogwarts all summer, but all her Aunts' and Uncles' and parents' words ever served to do were to create questions. Sure, there were four houses - Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin - and on her first night the Sorting Hat would sort into a house... But what were the houses like? Which one did she want to be in? "I'm Gryffindor. We're lots of things, but Gryffindors are known for being brave and good-" here he puffed out his chest a bit "-and we won the house cup last year, too. Ravenclaws are all the best at class and they're all smart and quiet, I think, and they're known for being clever. Aunt Hermione was almost a Ravenclaw. Hufflepuffs... they're supposed to be loyal and hardworking, but I don't think they always are."_

"Victoire Weasley," Professor Truman called, and Victoire took a sharp breath of air. She walked quickly toward the stool, and it wasn't until she was sitting that she noticed how much quieter the room had become - much quieter than when Fred, or anyone else, had been sorted. It made her even more nervous.

She knew before the Sorting Hat even touched her head what it would say, and she dreaded the moment. As Professor Truman place the hat onto her smooth, golden-red hair, she felt dizzy and out of breath.

"Oooooh," said the felt-y hat above her, too loudly for her taste. "Part-Veela? And a Weasley? Surprising, different... very interesting."

Victoire was confused as to why the hat did not just yell it out. "_A ready mind... those whose Intelligence is surest_," he'd said. Where Learning was of the highest value? That's where she belonged. Victoire wasn't one for action - she was one for words and quiet. She certainly was not a Gryffindor - she was shaking under this hat after all.

Finally, the word rang out: _RAVENCLAW!_

Victoire breathed a sigh of relief and quickly extricated herself from the wordy headpiece, the Ravenclaw table erupting in applause: surprised, but uproarious cheering from the students in blue and white ties. As she neared the table she tried to gage the reaction of the rest of the Great Hall, and saw that they were clapping too - Teddy and Fred, it seemed, were second only to the Ravenclaws themselves. Victoire felt relief wash over as Headmistress McGonagall began to speak, and she resolved not think very hard about being Ravenclaw rather Gryffindor, and instead tried to enjoy her first few hours as a Hogwarts student.

The next day she was nervous again. She hadn't had a chance to speak to Fred or Teddy the night before, and had not yet had any reassuring words from them. Instead she had fielded questions about her family, questions about being part-Veela and, worst of all, comments about how bonkers it was that she was sorted into Ravenclaw. In fact the night had made her so jumpy that at breakfast, when a boy asked her to pass the marmalade, she mistook his questioning poke as a personal affront and nearly screamed bloody murder. Controlling herself, she passed the spread and put her head in hands. Is this what Hogwarts would be like? A series of mistakes? With none of her family by her side?

She was so consumed by her own woe that she hardly noticed when the morning post came flying in and the students around her began to exclaim in awe. When she finally lifted her chin she found a pile of letters in front of her - at least 20 of them. At her peers' prompting, she began to open them to read. Aunt Hermione (including a sentence supposedly from Uncle Ron), Grandma Weasley, her mother and father... they had all sent her letters of encouragement. Well, all were encouraging except Dominique, who had told Victoire that they were disowning her, and whose letter Victoire promptly chucked out.

_Sweetheart_, her father wrote, _ I am so proud that you're a young lady at Hogwarts. I hope you and your fellow Ravenclaws give Freddie and the Gryffindors a run for their money for the House Cup (what I mean is - don't get any points docked, young lady!). However, I'm sorry I can't root for your quidditch team (scarlet and gold forever where that's concerned)... Though I don't think you mind that so much. Lots of love and wishing you luck, Papa._

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><p>I was <em>nervous<em>, I realized, with a certain level of apprehension. I couldn't help it. My jaw was clenched, my nails dug into my palms. I was almost more nervous than I'd been for my own hat ceremony, and_ that_ was nervous. _I don't care where Dominique ends up_, I tried to tell myself. That bratty little snit would be fine anywhere - she's smart, assertive and just as pretty as me (though as far as I'm concerned - in her those traits usually present themselves as a loud veela know-it-all). Yet, unlike me, there wasn't anywhere I could easily place her... So didn't that mean she would be fine anywhere? Why was I so nervous? And _why oh why _was our name so late in the alphabet?

"Melinda Muntz," professor Truman called next.

"Ooh, that's Olwen's younger sister," Gilda whispered, poking me excitedly. "I wonder if she'll be in Ravenclaw. I heard she's already amazing at quidditch!"

I managed a small smile, but remained largely paralyzed by nervousness. I_ bet Dominique isn't even half as nervous as I am, I thought. That's why I shouldn't be nervous about her sorting. She's going to be a gryffindor._

The Muntz girl had come and gone (into Hufflepuff, much to Gilda's chagrin), and now a young boy named Esben Toft squirmed beneath the Sorting Hat - and I knew that Dominique's turn was very soon.

Gilda gave me another poke, "Girl, you look like you're about to break in half. Do you want your bratty sister to be a Ravenclaw that badly?"

I breathed out, trying to look more relaxed. "No, not really," I whispered back. "Actually, I... I think I'd prefer she weren't."

"Yeah, probably for the best. You two were at each others throats nonstop this summer."

"Yeah," I replied, more absent mindedly than I meant. To be honest, I don't really_ mind_when we're at each others throats. We don't play very well together, but as far as sibling rivalries go, ours is just talk. I really love her - so my concern for her Sorting has less to do with our relationship and more to do with... well, everything.

_Dominique won't even be a hat stall_, I tried to tell myself. For the record, I've never figured out why I was a hat stall. Someday I'd like to sit that hat down and suss that out. For now, however, I convinced myself that the Sorting Hat would know right away she was a Gryffindor, and I knew it had to be Gryffindor. I was ok being an anomaly as long as that's what I was - but, somehow, I felt that to be Weasleys our family had be Gryffindor, had to have at least one Gryffindor progeny - and if _Dominique_weren't a Gryffindor? Then that was saying something - about their werewolf blood, or their Veela blood... But if Dominique were just a Gryffindor then there would be no reason to be ashamed.

"Dominique Weasley!"

The now-expected quieting followed. "Gotta love a celebrity sorting!" said Gilda, elbowing me cheekily.

Professor Truman lowered the hat to Dominique's head, and just as it touched the waves of her rosy-blonde hair, the Sorting Hat announced its decision:  
>"Gryffindor!" - Loud and clear.<p>

...

_So she wasn't a hat stall_, thought Victoire quite happily. Yet, as she watched Dominique go to the Gryffindor table and be received by Fred and Teddy with hugs, she couldn't help but feel something akin to disappointment.

She wasn't jealous, Victoire thought, as she saw Teddy's brotherly arm around Dominique's shoulder. Gryffindors as a whole annoyed her; she hated their empty bravado and how they rarely tried in class. While she and Fred got on well, they weren't very close, and as far as she was concerned, Teddy was a pain in the arse. She didn't want to be a Gryffindor. She wasn't jealous - that would be false. But, seeing Fred, Teddy, Dominique... and even Septimus Jordan sitting together made Victoire feel a bit left out. That wasn't so wrong, was it?

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><p>Molly found a secluded corner in a 3rd floor corridor of the castle to consume her treats. Really, it was awfully nice of Lorcan to give her Valentines chocolates. He was a pretty adorable kid, even if Mel and Gideon found him to be terribly annoying. <em>They're just jealous he's got a crush on me<em>, she huffed teasingly to herself.

Pretty quickly, however, her own amusement faded into embarrassment and she got up to throw the chocolates out. She was on a diet, anyway, she told herself. Just she was about to escape from her nook she heard voices of some other students down the way.

"Ugh, seriously, you muggles don't know anything! The Weasleys are like Wizarding royalty!" one voice, which sounded like it belonged to 3rd year Slytherin, Isa Cerveira, said somewhat shrilly.

"But they don't seem very rich," replied the other, younger, voice, with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.

Isa's voice quieted slightly, "yes, well, not all of them are - but they do all have social cache, and they've got loads of it. They're all connected to Harry Potter and that's enough for anyone, for better or worse. So if one of them is friendly, you act friendly back... Even if they are Gryffindors - it can't be helped: they're all Gryffindors, the lot of them."

There was no way in hell that Molly was emerging from the shadows now. Thankfully the pair seemed to have stopped moving just around the corner.

The younger girl began again. "What about Molly Weasley? She's a Hufflepuff just like my friend Lysander-"

"Emily, we do not associate with Hufflepuffs! Though if you must, I suppose Luna Lovegood's sons aren't so bad..." - at this she had clearly received a look of non-comprehension - "my god! Read a bloody book sometime! She's another prominent figure from the original DA. And anyways, Molly Weasley is the son of Percy Weasley. _That's_why she's not a Gryffindor."

Isa continued, expecting the younger's ignorance. "Percy Weasley abandoned his family - they said they've reconciled but that's hogwash. She was probably sorted into bloody Hufflepuff in penance... Only real Weasleys can be in Gryffindor."

Molly _loved_ being in Hufflepuff. When she was 11 she had been pleased primarily because she liked badgers and the color yellow, and (to be honest) her older cousins intimidated her, and she wasn't so unhappy to get a bit of distance from them. As she grew older she realized a few things. That while her father was a great, important man - and recognized by many as being so - her family history and his connection to it were not so cut and dry. All of the Weasley Clan loved each other without hesitation, but Percy Weasley was often last in others' fondness and trust. Her father had a lot to be sorry for... and there were moments when Molly hated her father for that. In those moments she clung tightly to being a Hufflepuff: She would be loyal, she would be_ fiercely l_oyal.

That being said, no matter how close to the truth Isa Cerveira got, she wasn't there. Percy Weasley, and Molly and her mother and sisters were Weasleys through and through - and a stupid 3rd year slytherin wasn't going to say it was otherwise. By this point Molly was shaking - half in anger and half in abject shame, but it wasn't for long. The girls in the corridor jumped in surprise when they found a third person had happened upon them, and Molly herself was surprised when she heard the third voice interrupt.

"Look here! What's your name?" Victoire's voice rang out. " I mean you, the pompous one."

"Isa Cerveira," Isa said, her voice already shrinking.

"What house am I in, do you think?"

"Ravenclaw..."

"Right. And last I checked, I was a proper Weasley. I'm also head girl, and if you two don't get moving I'll dock 5 points from both of you."

"For what?"

"Dwadling." Victoire stated imperiously, and the two slytherins scuttled off. After a long pause, with Molly still hiding in fear and embarrassment she heard Victoire say, "Molly, you can come out now."

Molly left her hiding place somewhat sheepishly.

"What are you doing, hiding from third years?" Victoire asked, not unkindly.

Molly shrugged but didn't say anything. Confrontation wasn't her thing, talking about her feelings wasn't her thing.

Victoire smiled and swung her arm around Molly's shoulder. "Anyways," she said, "I've been looking for you..."


End file.
